That Which The Spirit Remembers
by Little Muse
Summary: The Celts were fearless warriors because 'they wish to inculcate this as one of their leading tenets: that souls do not become extinct, but pass after death from one body to another...' - Julius Caesar


_"They say," she says nonchalantly, eyes upon her sewing, "that the Romans will leave."_

He glances over at her from his position at the window, watching her deft hands tug at the needle, drawing the thread up high. She speaks as though it were a mundane subject. They say this rain will stop_, she may as well have told him. He had heard as much as well. But then, he had heard it before._

"Oh?" he offers, noncommittally, gazing back out at the darkened village again. A bonfire of scraps burns not far away, in an adjacent field.

"I don't much listen to idle gossip," she continues, yet to look up.

"Of course."

"I've been listening to the soldiers."

He starts and faces her again, abandoning his corner of the room for hers. "What were you doing near the soldiers?" he demands.

"They are difficult to avoid, in certain areas." Her eyes blink owlishly up at him.

His own eyes travel her tattooed face and neck, faded swirled markings and crescent-moons emblazoned there, like his own. She should know better than to call attention to herself, than to go poking about where she is not welcome. His father, skin still tinged blue with the woad plant, had been run through in a market years after he had given up fighting.

He grits his teeth. "I only want an acknowledgment that you hear me. I've prepared breakfast."

Merlin blinked and then immediately scrunched his eyes shut again at the harsh light falling over his face. Certainly his traitorous window was the source, but rising to shut it seemed too strenuous at the moment. He flopped away from it with a groan, only to be met with Gaius' too-near face and a bony-fingered poke to the shoulder.

"The prince will not be pleased if you slumber the morning away. Are you listening to me?"

Merlin sighed and dropped an arm over his eyes. "Yes, yes."

"Fine, then." The rustle of the old physician's robes could be heard as he straightened himself from his crouch beside the bed. Another poke. "You're quite awake, then?"

"Mmm," Merlin assured him, promptly rolling over. Gaius left, seemingly satisfied or at least accepting of defeat, but Merlin could not bring himself to shut his eyes again. The room was warm, unpleasantly so, and his sleep tunic clung to his skin uncomfortably. He threw the blankets from himself with a sigh.

No doubt the unseasonable heat would have Arthur in a foul mood.

But Arthur was quiet when he arrived, already up and gazing out his window toward the training yard. There was a prolonged moment, after Merlin had entered, of no response from the prince where the sorcerer wondered if he had indeed been noticed, but then Arthur was turning to him with a roll of his eyes, leaving Merlin unsure that the pensive expression had ever existed.

"You're late," he said, as if Merlin did not know this already and he nodded because there was nothing else to do. "I was supposed to be down in the yard already."

"You could learn to dress yourself," Merlin told him, shutting the door, and Arthur arched an imperious eyebrow at him. "... Sire," he added with a wan smile, for good measure.

"I'm in no mood this morning, Merlin." Arthur gestured toward the array of dully glinting armor which littered the wooden table, glancing back out the window; no doubt at his knights, making their progress without him.

Shoulders a bit hunched, Merlin strode forward to obey the silent command. Truthfully, he was unsure how in the mood for banter he himself was. He felt unrested, though he knew from Gaius' less than considerate waking that he had slept, and even slept too long. He could have perhaps slipped back into bed for a bit while Arthur was out training, but then there were deliveries of Gaius' to be made and by the time that was through, Arthur would be back and wanting his lunch.

He glanced back up once he had hefted the chest plate, ready to set it in place and felt his brow draw downward. Arthur was back at the window, but his head was not tilted down at the yard, his eyes instead gazing unfocused toward the wispy morning clouds, possibly at something Merlin could not see. Perhaps he could convince Arthur to nap later and grant himself one as well. The prince looked as exhausted as he felt.

Merlin opened his mouth, about to address him formally, but then, "Arthur?", seemed more appropriate in this instance.

Sure enough, Arthur did not even pretend to scold him for the familiarity, merely crossing the room in acquiescence, but then Merlin had half meant the name as a question which he clearly was receiving no answer to. Keeping an eye on Arthur's lowered ones, he began fastening the armor, as efficiently as his still clumsy hands allowed for. Honestly, almost anyone else would probably have been better for the job; Merlin sometimes wondered why Arthur didn't assign this one task to another servant. The only excuse he could think of was that Arthur wanted him to remember his place, which, at this point in their tentative friendship – yes, friendship – seemed unlikely.

Merlin's eyes flickered upward to again gauge Arthur's still impassive face. He didn't believe he was alone in this new camaraderie, but then, who knew how much of Arthur's end was solely his sense of duty, of common decency?

"There's no need to _jostle_ it so, Merlin," Arthur insisted, annoyed inflection on his name, and Merlin was half relieved to hear a familiar tone in the other's voice, no matter how unfriendly.

"It's that or have you later complaining it's wasn't tight or straight enough all day." Merlin gave the plate another tug, this one most definitely unnecessary, and thought that he must have been smiling again because Arthur exhaled a snort of what sounded like laughter, even agreement. 

* * *

"Gaius."

Merlin turned the tiny corked vial over in his hands, perusing the thick green muck inside. He approached his friend curiously, brandishing the object without removing his eyes from it. "Why so much of this?" he inquired, and he waved a hand at the many identical bottles which were set aside where he had found this one. It was not unusual for Gaius to keep stores of certain concoctions, but Merlin had never seen such a quantity of any one thing, at least not at one time.

Gaius glanced up from the steaming pot before him, a quick assessment of what his ward held. "A fertility elixir," he explained, and then when Merlin's bewildered expression remained, "Beltane approaches, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged one shoulder, bottom lip pushing his top up in consideration. "So it does, I suppose." He craned his neck back at the, in his opinion, rather superfluous supply. "You get a lot of demand for the stuff, come May?"

"Beltane is one of the few rites of the Old Ways that Uther has not robbed the people of," Gaius informed him, and Merlin cocked an eyebrow at the rare accusatory leaning of the words. "I believe he is hesitant to remove such a time-honored tradition. These bottles will be available at the festivals."

"Freely given?" Merlin asked, incredulously.

Gaius inclined his head in his direction.

"Your doing?"

Gaius arched an innocent eyebrow. "My... suggestion."

"Hm." Merlin continued gazing at the vial, perhaps too long, for he soon found Gaius' scrutiny on himself rather than his still brewing mixture.

"It may not often seem like it, Merlin, but Uther does have a healthy fear of his subjects."

Merlin's eyes darted up without his head, only briefly, before returning to the bottle. "Perhaps Beltane is just the next in line of things to be done away with."

"... Perhaps," Gaius conceded, because he had to, Merlin assumed. "Much still remains, Merlin."

"Like what?"

"Like you." And Gaius looked almost fondly exasperated with him, like this was quite obvious, and Merlin did feel rather foolish under his gaze.

"I, yes." Merlin sighed. "Hiding." It was petulant, but true.

"One day, not so long from now, I trust that will no longer be necessary."

Gaius was still standing where he had been, had not reached out, and yet his words felt like a comforting hand upon Merlin's shoulder, and he felt a surge of affection, both for Gaius and for Arthur.


End file.
